


Empty

by tendervittles



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Sadism, Stockholm Syndrome, Torture, Urination, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 16:27:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1611737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tendervittles/pseuds/tendervittles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon realizes his newest problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't even have an explanation for this.  
> Second part coming soon though.

**Prologue**

Ramsay finishes his meal—pork sausage—and leaves Theon in darkness.

He hangs limply on the cross and tries to will himself to die, to let go. Ramsay has taken everything from him—his manhood, and now even his name.

_Reek._   _My name is Reek_.

Ramsay would have continued to hurt him until Theon said it.  What choice did he have?  Ramsay said he wouldn’t kill him. 

Theon had known that would be the answer before he had even opened his mouth to beg. It didn’t matter if Roose Bolton needed him or not.  Ramsay was having too much _fun_ to let him go. But he had to try.

A funny cramping feeling is making itself felt, low and insistent in Theon’s abdomen. He moans involuntarily.

Theon knows he can’t avoid it forever.  He has already been struggling to ignore the pain from Ramsay’s amateur surgery, focusing on his other aches and pains (he has more than enough of them), breathing into the pain and loosing himself in the throbbing of his flayed fingers and his straining shoulders.

Anything to avoid thinking about… the other.

_The next time you think about naked girls…_

But that’s not what it is right now.  This is much, much worse, Theon realizes.  Girls are more avoidable, but this…

His bladder spasms again.

“No.” Theon groans aloud, “Please, no.”

But what did Ramsay say?

_You say please again…_

Theon’s chin drops to his chest as his body releases.  Piss streams down his legs, hot and foul, soaking his britches.

_…And you’ll wish you hadn’t._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always wondered how Theon/Reek would deal with certain other realities of lacking a penis, besides just his inability to have penetrative sex. Hence, this story.  
> The final chapter will hopefully be up soon!  
> Enjoy, sweetlings. <3

Reek stands in Ramsay’s chambers, awaiting his lord’s pleasure.  It’s very hard to stay still; his flayed and missing toes throb and Reek finds himself constantly shifting his weight, trying unsuccessfully to find a more tolerable position.

At least the carpet is warm and soft under his bare feet.  Ramsay has taught him much, in particular to be grateful for small pleasures, so Reek counts his blessings.  The carpet, the warmth from the fireplace, the time out of the kennels, his lord’s attention and careful instruction…

Right now Ramsay is off with his men, hunting or whoring or feasting.  They have been gone on long time, but it’s of no consequence to Reek; he would wait for Ramsay until summer comes again, if need be.

But it appears Reek won’t be waiting much longer this time.  He can hear the girls barking a greeting and the sound of horses and men in the yard.  Reek’s ears are acutely attuned to his master’s voice, but he can’t pick out Ramsay’s voice over the din.

He does hear the heavy footsteps moments later and the key turning in the lock.

Ramsay’s cheeks are flushed from the chill of the day, but his brow is lightly misted with sweat.  _It must have been a hunt_ , Reek thinks, wondering if perhaps the girls will have a new sister soon.

Reek doesn’t say anything, just chews at the inside of his cheeks (a new habit to replace gnawing on his mangled fingers—Ramsay didn’t like him doing that). Ramsay will attend to him soon enough.

Reek is watching Ramsay remove his cloak and doublet when he feels it, all at once. The ache to relieve himself and the burning desire to ignore everything to do with that area that what was once the favorite part of some other man’s body (not Reek, never Reek, he is just Ramsay’s freak, it rhymes with his name… he has never been anybody else).

Oh gods, Ramsay is looking him over now, Reek hasn’t been paying attention to his lord. _Disrespectful_.

Ramsay doesn’t seem to notice, which would have been fortunate, if Reek’s body didn’t betray him at that exact moment.  A few drops turns to a trickle, which increases to a stream, and the pattering on the carpet must be the most awful sound Reek has heard in his entire life.

Standing in a puddle, Reek gazes at his master in horror, eyes wide and frantic. His broken teeth cut into his bottom lip as he braces for the oncoming storm.

“Oh Reek.” Ramsay sighs. His voice is quiet and calm, but he grabs Reek’s collar and yanks hard, wrenching his head down. “It seems we’re in need of another lesson, aren’t we?”

Ramsay pushes Reek’s face at his mess, until his nose is touching the wet spot on the carpet. Reek closes his eyes and tries to turn his face away.

“Look at it!” Ramsay orders, shaking Reek’s head.

Crying, Reek opens his eyes.

“This isn’t the first time you’ve pissed all over yourself, is it, Reek?”

“No m’lord.” Reek sobs.

“This isn’t even the first time this week.” Ramsay hisses, “Even dogs don’t do it all over themselves.  I let you out of the kennels and _this_ is how you repay me?”

“I didn’t mean to, I swear it!” Reek bawls, “Please m’lord, I’m so, so sorry! I’ll clean it up, please let me clean it up!”

“No.” Ramsay releases Reek’s neck abruptly.  Off balance, Reek drops face-first into the soaked carpet. The acrid smell assaults his nose and stings at his eyes.

“No,” Ramsay says again, “I don’t believe you’re sorry yet.  But you will be.  Clothes off.”

As much as it shames Reek to be naked in from of Lord Ramsay, he doesn’t hesitate, scrambling to his feet and striping down completely.

“Pick them up.” Ramsay gestures to the rags now piled on the floor.

Reek hastens to gather his clothes, wading them into a ball before straightening up again.

Ramsay steps back and extends his arm towards the fireplace.  “Now get rid of them.”

Reek gapes at his lord.  Ramsay had gifted him these rags for good behavior.  And now he is taking them away.

“I won’t tell you again, Reek.” Ramsay says dangerously.

The fire is unpleasantly bright; Reek’s eyes are used to darkness. How could it be, he wonders, that just a minute ago he was so thankful to be in a room that was so comfortably heated? The fire crackles and pops merrily as Reek drops his garments into the flames.

Reek turns away and looks back at Ramsay.  Maybe his nakedness is enough punishment.

“Ohh no, pet.” Ramsay chuckles darkly, reading the look on Reek’s face, “We’re nowhere near done.  Against the wall.”

Reek’s heart is pounding in his chest, like a raven caged, flapping dark wings against steel bars, trying to escape.  But he obeys, prostrating himself, pressing his forearms into the rough stone, bending over uncomfortably far.  Nothing could be as exposing or humiliating as what he just did all over his lord’s fine rugs.

He hears the whisper of leather as Ramsay removes his belt and jumps at a sharp snap as Ramsay tests his grip, slapping his chosen implement in the palm of his hand.

Without warning, Ramsay brings the belt down.

Reek howls as the blow lays a new stripe on his back and rips open old scabs. Ramsay followed the first hit quickly with an equally forceful strike to the back of Reek’s thighs.

“Do you think it’s right, Reek,” Ramsay lectures through the beating, “To piss—literally—on everything I’ve done for you?  Do you think that’s showing the appropriate gratitude?”

“No m’lord!” Reek cries in response, “Please, I’m sorry!”

Again, Ramsay ignores the apology and delivers several more strokes, this time to Reek’s ass.

“Or maybe you aren’t grateful at all.” Ramsay continues, “Is that it?”

“No m’lord, no!  I’m not ungrateful… I’m Reek, your faithful Reek!”  The words pour out as he desperately gropes for the right thing to say.

Miraculously, his lord halts the blows.  Ramsay approaches Reek from behind and leans next to his ear. He draws his arm back and digs his nails into the battered flesh of Reek’s rear.

“What is it then? Why can’t my _faithful Reek_ keep from spraying piss everywhere? I’ve seen halfwits who can find their way to a chamber pot better than you can.”

“Please, m’lord, I’m… it’s just… I don’t like to think about… that I don’t have a… and I forget… I forget to go until it’s too… too late…” Reek stammers and gestures helplessly to the space between his legs.

The admission leaves him spent and sobbing harder than before.  Ramsay straightens up and lets Reek drop to the floor, where he clings to the wall and cries.

“Hm.” Ramsay lifts his fingers—spotted with Reek’s blood—to his lips thoughtfully. His tongue dabs and licks at his fingertips, cleaning away the red droplets.

“Let’s see what we can do about this… little problem of yours.”


	3. Chapter 3

Reek barely registers Ramsay stepping away from him and walking across the room. He hides his face in the unforgiving stone of the wall, whimpering and quivering all over, like a kicked dog. Reek thinks of nothing except the pain of the whipping and the shame, always the shame.  He is utterly and completely alone; even his body has turned from him, betrayed him.

But Ramsay is there, kneeling beside him and running a hand soothingly over his hair.

“Shh, shhh.” He coos, “I’m going to help you, little Reek, that will make it better, won’t it?  I know you want to be a good dog for me.”

Reek nods gratefully, dissolving into tears again.  The pain is done for now; Ramsay isn’t going to punish him anymore. Reek presses his face into Ramsay’s neck and nuzzles him as enthusiastically as he can.  He will be a very good dog and there will be no more hurt today.

Ramsay wraps his arms around Reek’s emaciated form, helping his pet into his lap. His fingers poke and prod at the scars, cuts and bruises that mar Reek’s milky white flesh.  Reek flinches and shakes as Ramsay explores his most tender injuries.

They sit in silence for a few moments.  Then Ramsay leans down to lovingly press a kiss to the top of Reek’s head.

“Up now.” He instructs.

Reek struggles to get to his feet, leaning heavily on Ramsay’s offered arm. Once he succeeds, Ramsay wraps an arm around his waist and leads him to the other side of the room.

What awaits him there is puzzling.  Ramsay has placed a cup and pitcher on the ground, with a chair in front of the arrangement.  Reek allows himself to be brought to stand before the whole display.  Without a word of explanation, Ramsay brings his hands to Reek’s shoulders and gently pushes him down until Reek is sitting back on his heels.

Ramsay steps back and takes the chair for himself.

“Pour yourself a cup.” He orders.

With shaking hands, Reek struggles to lift the heavy pitcher.  His arms are weak and he has no idea what Ramsay has planned.  Stomach churning, he pours.

It’s only water.

Even more confused, Reek sets the pitcher back down and stares up at Ramsay.

“Drink. All of it.”

Reek tips the cup to his lips, swallowing so much water he almost chokes, but he drains the glass, wondering what Ramsay has planned.

“Again. Finish the entire thing, Reek.”

So Reek serves himself cup after cup, at first drinking them down quickly (he doesn’t get much water usually).  The pitcher is only half empty when it becomes a struggle.  Reek can feel each mouthful as it travels down his throat to settle in his bloated stomach. 

As he starts on the last cup, he chokes.  His distended belly clenches and heaves.

“If you vomit it up, we’ll start over.” Ramsay says mildly.

Reek closes his eyes and wills his stomach calm.  All that manages to escape him is a cough and a small burp. Ramsay just watches him; Reek has won no praise.

He picks up the cup again and finally it’s done.  Ramsay reaches over, looking to the glass and turning the pitcher upside down, making sure not a single drop of water remains.

“Good.”

Ramsay’s approval is noncommittal and Reek understands this to mean he isn’t done and he looks at his lord expectantly.

Ramsay stands.  He moves behind Reek, who can hear him moving something, dragging and scraping on stone. Reek isn’t sure what it could be, but he knows he’ll find out.  He stares down at the floor and waits.

After a few seconds, Ramsay’s boots move back into view.  He presents Reek with a chamber pot.

“I think you know what to do.” Ramsay says, settling back in his chair.  He sits with his legs splayed, back slumped, fingers playing together casually.  It is a perfect contrast with the fear and embarrassment that seize Reek.

“M’lord,” Reek stammers, horrified, “I can’t… I mean I don’t have to—”

“I can wait, Reek.” Ramsay says, cutting him off.  “You may not be a man, you may smell worse than rotting meat,” He continues, “But you are mine… And I won’t have you showing such a lack of control.”

“M’lord, _please_ …” Reek begs. Already he can feel his body longing for release.  The need is terrible, the pressure on his bladder intense, and Reek can’t block it out, not this time and not ever again, not anymore.  _It was so much water…_

Ramsay is unmoved.  “You better get over that,” He says, gesturing to the chamber pot, “Before you piss everywhere again.  Squat, so I can see you.” There is a warning lurking beneath Ramsay’s nonchalance that Reek can’t ignore.  He assumes the position and his tears begin to fall again.

“Cry all you want.  It only serves to show that you will not forget this lesson.  You are the property of a lord and you _will_ act like it.”

“Yes m’lord.” Reek responses through his tears.  He should just go and get it over with, but it’s even worse with Ramsay watching and his eyes won’t move from Reek’s groin and the twist of scars there.

Ramsay sighs, exasperated.  “Take a deep breath now.” He commands.

Reek inhales slowly.

“You have until the count of three.” Ramsay says.  Then, without hesitation… “One.”

Reek whimpers pitifully.

“Two.”

Ramsay meets Reek’s eyes and raises his eyebrows expectantly before opening his mouth to speak.  “Thr—“

Reek squeezes his eyes shut and unclenches his muscles.

It seems to take a very long time for him to finish relieving himself.  Ramsay watches silently the whole time, fingers steepled beneath his chin.

Finally done, Reek shuffles towards his lord.  He makes it barely a step before his knees give out and he collapses at Ramsay’s feet.

After a moment, he feels Ramsay’s hand in his hair, pulling him up and against his lord’s legs.  Reek clutches Ramsay’s pants and lets his head drop to rest on Ramsay’s knee.

Ramsay keeps his grip on Reek’s head.  “That was much better.” He murmurs, riffling his fingers through Reek’s matted hair.

“You shouldn’t be so ashamed of your scars.  They are my gift to you.  And aren’t you so pleased to receive my careful attentions?”

“Yes m’lord.” Reek knows that is the right answer, the only answer, and, nowadays, he also finds that it is true.

Ramsay is content; he lets Reek bawl against his legs until the tears dry up and Reek can only sniffle and hiccup into Ramsay’s thigh.

“Come now, my precious Reek.” Ramsay says finally, “Up on the bed.  I’ll let you suck my cock until I come, won’t that be nice?”

Reek nods gratefully, wiping at his eyes with the heel of one hand.

The pair move to the bed and Reek takes Ramsay’s cock in his mouth, suckling and pleasuring him until Ramsay empties himself as empty as Reek’s bladder, as empty as his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! So there it is, my first completed Thramsay fanfic.  
> I hope you all enjoyed it. <3


End file.
